Aftermath of a wedding
by Cheesecake44
Summary: A story showing how Niko and Packie cope after Katie's death.
1. Dead End

**I don't own Grand Theft Auto.**

**The aftermath of the game and the first ending I ever got and I got a tearful phonecall from Packie which I didn't enjoy listening to, feeling guilty as sin. I felt awful for Niko too since after all of the crap he's been through he came out the other end with bugger all.**

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><p>Dead End<p>

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><p>I felt like shit. This is the same feeling I had after the ambush that took twelve of my friends lives; low, guilty, pathetic…suicidal.<p>

Kate.

After everything I said to her in the car going to the church, I said I'd protect her, I'd look after her and I meant it, every word I meant it and I promised her. Not even two hours later did I break that promise to her and now she's dead. It was my fault, Pegorino was aiming at me, if she hadn't have been there then she'd still be alive.

I was sat in Mallorie's cousin's apartment; there was a brief time where I felt like it was home for me and my cousin but now, I realise I have nothing; no home, no family to live with. Roman has a new life, a new family he's a part of now, he won't have much time for me anymore. And what else can I do? What's my trade? Kate could've helped me think of something but she's not here.

I should've stayed away from her. People like me should not be around others.

My phone rang and a name lit up on the screen, even through all what I was feeling my heart and guilt flew forward for her brother.

Her brother, who loved his sister and would've done anything to protect her.

I contemplated for a second of not answering but I owed him more than that, Packie deserved more than that. I half hoped he be angry at me, maybe threaten me, yell at me, scream at me that it was my fault and I should fuck off, die and burn in hell…

I pressed the small green phone icon and held it to my ear.

"I never thought this would happen, Niko."

…Perhaps not.

Packie was in tears I could hear it easily and my heart clenched up.

"I never would've fucking thought it. Katie. Sweet, innocent Katie." I closed my eyes and held the phone tightly to my ear so hard that I could hear tiny electric buzzing of wires as the call stayed connected, the buzzing was broken by a sniff and what sounded like a held back sob. I could easily see Packie sat on the sofa, elbows resting on his knee with one hand over his eyes as he tried to hold back that sob.

I forced my eyes open so I didn't have to see it anymore.

"I'm sorry, Packie. I was there; I tried to stop it..." I trailed off. I didn't know what else to say. Didn't know how I could make it better.

"She didn't do nothing to nobody. It was us McReary men who were the sinners. We're paying for that ourselves, she didn't have to pay too."

Even though he was only a year younger than me, his tone was saying 'it's not fair' like a child that needed consoling would say. He was right though; it wasn't fair.

"She didn't Packie, you're right." I answered forlornly rubbing my hand over my short hair.

"I gotta be with me Ma, Niko." Packie breathed out shakily like he was steeling himself for the anguish of his Mother at losing her daughter, I imagined how hard it would be for him to have to look after her on his own and whilst he was still grieving as well.

"She don't got much left other than me. And that ain't much... see you, man."

That sounded final, as in we won't be seeing each other for a while, although I guess it was true, he would be too busy watching and caring for his Mother then going out, getting drunk, laid and stoned with his friends, I idly wondered if that meant he wouldn't be doing any more jobs, but then again he could've hardly wasted all that money from the bank.

I felt that even though he hasn't said anything about me being with Katie when it happened, he most likely held me responsible in some way.

He needed time.

And so did I.

"It's enough, see you, man."

A click and a lack of metallic buzzing and Patrick was gone.


	2. Sex helps right?

**I don't own Grand Theft Auto.**

**It annoyed me that if I went out with Packie after his sister died the dialogue didn't change and I wished Rockstar had made it so it had. I love writing Packie drunk I actually hear his drunken voice in my head as I write out what he's saying lol. **

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><p>Sex helps right?<p>

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><p>The girl went to kiss me and I grudgingly obliged to keep her happy and to stop it from getting awkward if I suddenly jerked away from her. We were in the backseat of the car I had picked her up in, missionary position and I didn't give a fuck if we got caught.<p>

I had pulled my car over next to her because she had the same colour hair as Kate, she had awful taste in clothes and was wearing to little of them and too much make up on although even if she didn't her face resembled nothing of Kate's so I finished the kiss and moved my face to rest against the side of hers and closed my eyes.

Obviously fake moaning was a must with her and I held back from telling her to be quiet.

"Oh yeah, grab my titties you fuck!" She whined at me and from hearing the word titties just made me think of Roman. Before it rooted itself in my head I made myself kiss her again so I stopped thinking of my cousin and so she would shut up. This was hard, I was forcing myself to do this to, I don't know, make myself feel better?

The sex was nothing spectacular; a few more thrusts and I was done and it was all over. I vaguely wondered if I should do the same for her but she had already pushed me up and away, pulling her underwear back on before holding her hand, with unattractive leopard print fake nails, out for money.

Her actions made me feel worse, this was low, but I pulled out some money and gave it to her, I gave her a lot more than a hundred dollars which was the price but I didn't care and she kept quiet; not wanting to me take it back. I opened the car door and held it open for her to slide out instead of having to wriggle and turn around to open the other door behind her. She bounced out the car and without a word of thanks she flounced off, heading back to the main street.

I got back in the car and started to drive back to the road, the radio was off and for once in Liberty City everything was quiet, too quiet. I turned the radio on and the sudden buzz and crackle followed by loud voices and music talking shit, now it was too loud so I turned it off again. My skin felt strange and I scratched my arm wondering if I had dirt on them or something else that was irritating the skin, it took me a few seconds to realise that I felt dirty, after everything I've done, all the people I have killed but I start to feel tainted after having sex with a prostitute?

Annoyingly ironic I think is the right words for it.

For the next few minutes the feeling didn't stop and I resisted from rubbing my hands, developing OCD now am I? I drove to the apartment in Algonquin since it had the better shower out of the other apartments and also warmer, I pulled up outside and walked in, pushing the door open and holding it for a young girl who was talking on her phone distractedly. I was given a smile and a small 'thank you' which was refreshing, manners I mean. I returned the smile and went on my way.

Finally standing underneath the hot water spray I stared at the cool cream tiles in front of me and wondered bleakly if this truly was the bottom. I been in a war, saw friends die, killed, tortured, smuggled and sold people, survived the war and the shipwreck, came here and started again with the killing to close the book on the war and then I finally thought I had finished with it all but, when she was shot…

Revenge was what I knew and I knew to do it well.

So I had killed Pegorino.

It hadn't made me feel better, it hadn't brought her back.

Closure doesn't come with killing, no matter how much you believe it will.

I knew I couldn't fixate on Kate forever, I had learned that much from a thirteen year grudge and I was tired of holding all the anger and remorse. I wish I was as cold a lot of people I had met here seemed to believe, at least than I wouldn't feel anything.

What would Kate tell me to do?

Not that she could tell anything.

I quickly batted away the depressive thought and clung to what she most likely would've said to me, it was easy to imagine probably because she voiced her opinions on what I've done wrong and what I should be doing and her feelings very openly, although to be fair, everyone has told me the same thing and I knew they were right. Even Michelle did, if in a bold way.

Michelle or Karen would probably say what she said before 'You should be dead yourself or inside'. Damaged goods eh?

Forget her, what would Kate say?

'You shouldn't dwell on the past, don't blame yourself' What would she say about me having sex with a prostitute? She'd be upset and disappointed in me…

She was disappointed with a lot of people, Gerald asked me to look after his family if he went inside, I failed once, twice if I count the brother I killed. Patrick's a good friend and a good brother, do I fail him too?

Maybe I should call him and see how he is?

I got out the shower and wrapped a towel round my waist, I glanced at the clock as I walked past and saw it was about three in the morning. I headed for my phone on the kitchen counter but considering Patrick is usually awake at this time, I didn't put off calling him. I sat on a stool and tried to think of what I could say to him.

I could ask if he wanted to go out somewhere?

No, he probably won't want to leave his Mother.

Maybe I could go over there instead?

What would I say to him? Granted it's him that usually keeps the conversation going, he has a lot to share, almost uncomfortably so. But it shows he trusts me with what he's telling me; which has ranged from erectile dysfunction because of cocaine, his life in general and his family; usually cursing his Father to hell because of what he had done to him.

I still wasn't sure. It had been a week since I had last spoken to him. I started getting changed into clean clothes whilst I tried to decide. Finally I picked my phone up again, contacts menu open and on Packie's name.

My thumb hovered over the green phone button and I decided it didn't matter too much if there was a few seconds of silence.

I pressed it and held it to my ear, a quick flash of Patrick sat sobbing to himself came back to me, I closed my eyes listening to the ringing and hoped he wasn't crying this time. There were three rings and a click sounded with some rustling but Packie didn't say anything.

I waited a few seconds.

"Patrick?" There was silence and I wondered if he had answered it whilst still sleeping. "It's me." I added.

"I know it's you, Niko. Like I don't have your number?" Packie slurred at me sounding quite carefree.

"Are you alright?" I asked even knowing he was drunk and probably coked out of his head.

"Fuckin' fantastic. I'm fucking outta my mind, half me family's dead and I'm gonna die."

What?

"What do you mean you're going to die?" I asked quickly, imagining the worse and he had taken an overdose or sitting there with a gun to his head talking to me. When he gets drunk he's spoken to me about suicide before but when he's sober he doesn't seem suicidal at all so I used to assume it was just the drink making him more emotional.

There was no answer from him.

"Patrick?"

"I'm here, eh Niko boy, you're a prince, you know that?" he drawled lazily.

"Packie where are you?" I had had enough I was going to find him and make sure he didn't do anything stupid, Kate would want that. I was already heading to lift and waited as it opened; I quickly jabbed for the bottom floor and waited impatiently.

"I'm in me bedroom of, of course." He struggled on a few words but got them out just as I got in the same car I had the girl in before, however that was that farthest thing from my mind, I couldn't focus on me and my faults, I keep my promises and I will do for Gerry…

…and Kate.

"I'm coming round. I'll be there soon."

"Yea-hehaha, Niko's coming round!" Was the last thing I heard before I shut off the phone and started speeding.


	3. Drunken Grief

**I don't own Grand Theft Auto.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Drunken Grief<strong>

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><p>Everything looked quiet and asleep in the McReary household, lights were off and curtains were shut. I let myself in since I doubted anyone else would be up and Packie was either passed out by now or too drunk and or stoned to care.<p>

It was eerily quiet and I felt on edge because of it, plus I didn't want to switch the lights on in case his mother or Derrick wandered out of nowhere and demanded why I was there. I made my way up the stairs quietly and examined each door, I realised there was another floor too. I vaguely wondered which room was Kate's but I left it aside; I was here for Packie. The door on my left had light coming out from under it so someone was still awake but I wasn't sure if it was his Mother's room and I didn't want to walk in and disturb her, I knocked on the door quietly and I could rustling and a thump accompanied by swearing; that was Packie's voice.

I pushed open the door gently and got an eyeful of dark underwear as he just pulled up his jeans.

"Hey Packie," I greeted quietly as I stepped inside his room for the first time.

It was a small room and because of that it seemed quite crowded, baring his single bed that was shoved in one corner, a bedside table which also looked as a cross with a chest of drawers, then a desk and a wardrobe that took up the wall across from the bed. The desk was a mess; a gun, ammo, coke, magazines, plates, bottles. There were a few books and everyday things like a razor; aftershave and cologne that I could also spot in the light of a small lamp which served as the only light source in the room making the white walls seem cream coloured with a beige carpet.

Rather a neutral looking room for Patrick as I had thought everything would've been green with clovers and Irish logo's everywhere.

"Eh?" Packie turned round to face me looking confused. "Niko boy, what'cha doin' here?"

He forgot already?

"I'm-"

"Shh," he did this loudly despite making me be quiet and pointed to his bed, grinning dopily. What I thought was just his covers flung over and scrunched up I saw in the glow of the small lamp that there was a girl there, dark hair and a forehead peeking out of the top of the covers.

"Gotta be quiet," Patrick whispered loudly with a crooked smirk.

Looks like he had the same idea as me; have sex to take your mind off it.

I nodded.

"Let's go downstairs, okay?"

"Alrighty then Niko, let's go." Packie spoke quite cheerfully and again loudly, despite the shushing just a few seconds ago, and marched drunkenly out the door and I floundered for a second, wondering if I should help him down the stairs in case he fell.

A loud thump and a string of curses led me to close his bedroom door quietly and attempt to give him a hand which he noisily denied with a squawk of "What? I ain't completely fucked yet, man."

After a few odd minutes of watching Patrick attempt to walk quietly down the stairs and through doorways, quite lucky so far however I took pity on him and steered him the rest of the way to the kitchen, I gave him a soft push on his back to move him to sit down on one of the stools at the island table, he did so, slumped forward on it and watched me meander about.

"I can't be fuckin' bothered with caring anymore man, what am I supposed to do? What the fuck am I supposed to do? I haven't even told Gerry yet." He burbled out, his good cheeky mood seemingly gone.

I didn't have an answer and chances were that he wouldn't remember any of this in the morning so I kept foraging in the McReary kitchen, hunting for where the coffee was as I set about making something to get him sober and less likely to freak out. It was now he was reminding me of his sister; the most mess of a drunk I had ever gotten drunk with and to be honest it was quite frightening seeing her swing from angry to floods of tears in three seconds. Maybe it would make him feel better if I told him about the resemblance.

"You ever saw Kate drunk? You're reminding me of her."

"Hah, yeah I saw her drunk, the most miserable fucking drunk I ever had the misfortune to get drunk with."

"Says you,"

"Hey at least I can be cheery a lot of the time, I have reason to be miserable right now,"

There was a few seconds of silence punctuated only by the rumbling of the kettle when I he sniffed, I thought nothing f it until I heard the ruffle of clothes moving and I glanced back to see that he had placed his head in his hands. It was a jolt for it to resemble the thought I had of him earlier sat like this, crying. His face was red, screwed up and eyes closed but tears were starting to roll down his face. Forehead scrunched up and his mouth was open but his teeth were clenched, like he was trying to stop or be quieter.

The kettle clicked to show it had finished and as the rumbling died down all was heard was Packie's harsh breathing as he struggled to keep it in.

I'd seen men cry before, in the war, but not like this. Such an open display of crying, I wasn't adverse to it, if I felt like crying then I often did when I was alone however in this situation I wasn't alone, it was affecting me too and I found myself shaking my head to clear the feeling of wanting to cry. I'd seen Roman cry before but he was my cousin, I had seen him cry a lot not for long though, an optimist through and through. I wondered what he would do or say in this situation.

"Patrick..." I wasn't sure what to say, I was just saying his name in general and hoped he say something back.

He didn't.

Obviously when a person see's someone else; a friend, family member, the instinct is to comfort them. I had that instinct; I just wasn't to good at showing it.

I moved slowly to sit next to him, the kitchen was too quiet and if I was honest I preferred him talking, no matter how miserable or masochistic he could get, I preferred words over tears. I placed my hand on his shoulder and waited.

Packie didn't react.

I heard a door open and close somewhere in the house. Sounded like the front door, I guessed it was the girl from upstairs, I figured she was probably a prostitute unless Packie had a friend with benefits.

"Fucking hell Niko." Patrick had spoken through gritted teeth and inhaled shakily which sounded far too close to a sob, he faced the counter top as though he were ashamed that he was crying, he didn't need to feel ashamed, his sister has died.

What do I say?

It's okay?

Everything will be fine?

"I'm sorry, Packie."

"What the fuck for?" Came another gritted response, still no movement however.

I had a feeling this might make him angry but…

"She was with me, Pegorino shot her but he was aiming for me…"

"You don't think I haven't thought about that." He sounded less upset but bordering on a dangerous tone, I found I had nothing else to say to that. Regardless of the guilt I felt, if he didn't blame me then he didn't, if he did…then I would have to deal with it.

"You're a prince but you can be a fucking hypocrite sometimes Niko," Patrick sniffed and finally lifted his head.

He gazed ahead of him.

"You think Derrick could keep his mouth shut about you shooting Frankie?"


	4. Confess and Accept

**Sorry it took so long, university, sometimes I wonder if I'm on the right course at the right uni.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Confess and Accept<strong>

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><p>To be honest, I had felt guilty about killing Francis but I would've felt guiltier for killing Derrick, I had put that aside for the rest of his family. I hadn't really thought about it since then, I'd actually forgotten about Derrick and how snitching seems to radiate from him.<p>

The kitchen was completely silent and I could feel myself have the beginnings of panic, I cut myself off before I could even get there. If Patrick properly blamed me for that then he would've shot me or said something back then or after the funeral. Then again when did Derrick tell him?

"…Okay." I said quietly.

"I was pissed at you for fuckin' ages, you not notice I didn't call you for weeks or you decide to be a gentleman and not say anything?" Packie spoke in a deadpan way so I had no idea what he was feeling or what he was going to do.

"I noticed but I thought you might be busy," I answered truthfully. I honestly hadn't made the connection that he could've found out.

"If Gerry knew he'd fucking kill you, you know that right?"

"Yes."

"Well you're lucky it was me Derrick told and not him. I got the whole story from him and he was a much to blame the spiteful bastard. He wouldn't have had the balls to actually talk to journalist about us McReary's but it was the threat of it that got Frankie riled. And our Frankie is a business man through and fucking through. Why didn't you call me and tell me what was going on?"

"I don't know…All I knew was both of them wanted to kill the other and they wanted me to do it."

"Well, I suppose if you look at it in black an' white, you killed the bad guy and saved the good one. Francis was a bastard and didn't care much beyond himself and lied a hell of a lot, Derrick was and still is a bastard who cares about heroin and lies a lot about himself. Nice shootin' there boy." He spat the last part out with a small snarl.

"I would've felt guiltier killing Derrick, he hadn't done anything to me."

"And Frankie did?"

"Blackmail and making me do his dirty work. Listen, I am sorry-"

"I know you are. And when I thought back on it I knew you were at the funeral otherwise you wouldn't have been there. And just to let you know Derrick told me a few days after we buried Francis, couldn't keep it to himself, too much guilt."

"Francis did care and so does Derrick."

"Derrick maybe, but fuckin' Frankie-"

"Yes, he has photo's of you in his office, he makes sure the police don't arrest you when you're drunk and starting fights or if they do they don't harass you, if an Irish car drives past the toll booth without paying they do nothing."

Packie said nothing to that.

"And Derrick? He cares in his own way too, he's just been away a long time and is fighting some of his own problems but if he didn't care then he wouldn't have told you about this and on that bank job when you were thrown to the floor because of that car exploding; he ran back to get you. I could've called you but I didn't, I am more to blame than Derrick is, I don't have an excuse other than killing people is all I know how to end fights like they had."

"Fucking hell man." Patrick mumbled quietly. "You really know how to lay on the emotions don't you?"

I remained quiet.

"And Katie?" His voice wobbled at her name. "Why don't you explain that while you're at it..."

"Pegorino shot her in a drive by but he was aiming for me, I had my arm round her, stood next to her. He missed me."

He had his head down again.

"It was quick, she didn't even notice." I didn't know how else to comfort him. "If you want to kill me-"

"You don't think in those few weeks I didn't line up to take a shot at you? I was this fucking close. Several times I coulda shot you in the back of the fucking head but I didn't."

"I suppose I should say thank you," I said, unsure of what else I should say.

Patrick mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspicously like a childish 'dur'.

"What?" I asked.

"Just shut up and make me some fucking coffee…"

I turned to flick the kettle on again and knocked the cup I had got for Patrick to the floor where it landed with a smash.

I heard Packie huff at me and I turned round, looking apologetic, to see a small smirk on his face, I could see a few tear tracks and his eyes were puffy showing the tears earlier however he seemed, alright since I unintentionally broke the mood, plus he's drunk; mood swinging seems to run in the family. I gave a small smile back to him and his smile lessened as he raised an eyebrow and spoke quietly.

"What you smiling at? You're buying another cup."


End file.
